Lynn exchanged a discreet glance with Parker. She wished Immi would elaborate on what those interests of hers were, but her friends had changed the subject and were discussing a coworker who’d recently gotten engaged.
The longer they eavesdropped, the more frustrated Lynn got, because Immi wasn’t giving them anything to go on. When the woman eventually excused herself from the group to use the restroom, Lynn glanced at Parker in determination.
“I’m going after her,” she murmured.
He frowned. “Might not be a good idea.”
“Dude, if we don’t step up our game, we’ll be here all night. And I’ll have you know women spill all their secrets in the ladies’ room.”
He stared at her. “Did you just call me dude?”
“Got a problem with that?”
His lips tightened in amusement. “Not at all, bro.”
A laugh popped out. “Why don’t you grab us a couple of drinks? I’ll be right back.”
“Hey baby, wanna swing with me?”
Parker stifled a groan as he got asked the same question for the fifth time. And for the fifth time, he shook his head and declined the invitation, this one from a cute blonde in a skintight red catsuit.
Lynn was taking a ridiculously long time in the ladies’ room. A glance at his watch revealed another five minutes had passed, making her absence a total of twenty minutes. He absently sipped his beer and wondered if he ought to go after her, but before he could move, he caught sight of a familiar face.
A moment later, Jack threaded his way through the crowd and reached the table.
“Hey,” Parker said in surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought Dean needed you on the Johnson job.”
Jack ran a hand through his sandy blond hair as he looked around the room, eyebrows raised. “This place is bonkers. I’m surprised they don’t make you sign a liability form when you walk in—it’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.” He swiped Parker’s beer out of his hand and took a hearty swig. “And to answer your question, the Johnsons’ anniversary dinner is going splendidly so Dean graciously suggested I take off.”
Parker narrowed his eyes. “That was nice of him…”
After a beat, Jack grinned. “Fine, there was nothing gracious about it. We were arguing about something and he told me to get lost.”
“What were you arguing about?” When Jack simply shrugged, Parker let out a groan. “For fuck’s sake, you two agreed to a ceasefire. I even made you sign that agreement never to discuss it!”
Jack’s sputtered defense was one Parker had heard too many times before. “I’m sorry, but it’s bullshit! Saving Private Ryan is an epic movie, and one of these days that asshole is gonna have to admit it. I refuse to hear a bad word about—”
“I don’t want to hear it. I swear, I had to listen to this debate during two tours of duty, and I fucking refuse to listen to it again.” Exasperated, Parker checked his watch. Two more minutes had ticked by.
Where on earth was Lynn? What the hell was she—wait, there she was. Relief flooded him when he spotted her across the room, her long brown hair falling over one shoulder as she made her way back.
Beside him, Jack didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t checking her out. His blue eyes swept over Lynn’s tight-fitting jeans and blue-and-white striped tank top, clearly liking what he saw.
“Damn, she really is pretty,” Jack remarked.
Parker’s shoulders stiffened. “Quit ogling my woman.”
“Meow.” His buddy grinned widely. “Did you say that to Dean the night you two banged—”
“Shut it.”
Jack wisely chose not to finish his sentence, and Parker was unsettled by the rush of possessiveness that had seized his chest. He might have shared Lynn with Dean that first night, but the thought of a repeat performance, with Dean or anyone else, curled his hands into fists. Lynn Davidson was his, or at least that’s what the caveman inside him kept insisting.
“Is that for me?” Lynn gestured to the unopened beer on the table as she reached the two men.
“Yep.” He handed her the bottle, then hooked a thumb at Jack. “And this is Jack. He’s here now so we can go whenever you want.”
Smiling at the newcomer, she twisted off the beer cap and took a quick drink. “You might not have to stay at all,” she told Jack. “I got you guys so much information I’m demanding a fruit basket for my efforts.”
The men grinned. “All right, let’s hear it,” Parker said.
She glanced around to make sure Immi Duncan wasn’t in earshot, but the woman and her friends were no longer in their vicinity—they’d taken up residence on the other side of the room, rapt attention focused on an Asian woman who was walking an honest-to-God tightrope ten feet above them.
“Okay, first off, let me go on the record and say I don’t think it’s her boyfriend who’s hopelessly unromantic,” Lynn huffed. “I mean it, the girl has the strangest concept of romance. You know what her idea of a dream restaurant is? Sensory deprivation! She wants to eat at one of those places where it’s pitch dark so you can really appreciate the texture and flavors of the food.”